


Water

by what_a_dork_fish



Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: AU, Cliffhangers, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-16
Updated: 2016-02-16
Packaged: 2018-05-21 00:12:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6030996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/what_a_dork_fish/pseuds/what_a_dork_fish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt in which Harry the hunter comes across a vengeful water-spirit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Water

_“Rockabye baby, in the treetop,_  
When the wind blows, the cradle will rock.  
If the bough breaks, the cradle will fall,  
And down will come baby,  
Cradle and all.”

Mama had told the child never to follow the voice by the river, but Mama had never told them that the voice would be so pretty. Nothing so pretty could be that dangerous. The child was barely old enough to walk, but they stumbled and bumbled their way through the rushes towards the riverbank.

_“Rockabye baby, in the treetop,”_ the pretty voice sang softly, _“When the wind blows, the cradle will rock. When the bough breaks, the cradle will fall…”_

The child tripped and fell to their knees.

_“And down will come baby, cradle and all.”_

When the child finally crawled to a clear space at the very edge of the river, it blinked. There was a person in the river, a boy-person, as pretty as the voice. He stood just far enough out that the water barely reached his chest; and his smile was very sad as well as welcoming.

_“Hello,”_ he said to the child. _“I’m lonely. Will you play with me?”_

“Yeah,” said the child immediately, and started to slide down the muddy bank, as the person smiled broadly with happiness and held out his arms—

~~~\0/~~~

“—and she won’t wake, any more than the Brown’s little boy!”

Harry opened his bag and pulled out a stethoscope. All agents knew basic medical procedure; he was able to give a rudimentary go-over, and say to the mother and father waiting by the door, “I have seen this before. It might take a few days, but there is a treatment that can help. Have you any vinegar?”

This was the third case he’d seen, and it was beginning to wear on him. He still hadn’t had time to go down to the river and kill whatever creature kept stealing these children. Oh, it never stole their bodies, or their souls; just their minds. It took their awareness far, far away, and left them alive but sleeping. He knew the cure, but it wouldn’t be complete until he killed the creature. He’d warned the parents of the children that it would take several days for each to regain full consciousness and possession of their faculties, but for until then, to just care for them as best they could. And the parents have been following his instructions to the letter.

When he finished playing doctor (really administering a potion that would ‘remind’ the little girl where she should be), he shook hands with both mother and father, left the house, and went straight to the boarding house where he was staying. Once there, he asked not to be disturbed and locked his door behind him. It was late, perhaps nine o’clock; plenty of time to change, sneak away, and silence that damn river-creature.

He wasn’t sure what it was, because it was so strange. It killed adults, but not every adult it snared; only the assholes, the criminals, the ones that people feared. There was very little grief over the deaths. Those it let live couldn’t remember what it looked like, only that it had asked them to keep it company for a time. No one could say what they’d done while “keeping it company”—or rather, no one _wanted_ to say. But the very fact that the deaths had been so few and so specific was what confused Harry. And it never harmed children beyond repair.

Harry glanced out the window. Late enough. Time to go.

~~~\0/~~~

The riverbank was quiet and clear except for the croak of a few frogs, the wind through the trees, and the soft singing.

_“Ring around the rosie,_  
Pocket full of posies,  
Ashes, ashes, we all fall down!”

The faintest sound like the laughter of many children—but soft, soft; soft enough to be lost in the rustle of leaves, unless you were listening very carefully. Harry was listening so carefully he could make out exactly how many voices there were. Six. It’d taken six children. And it wanted another.

Well, it wouldn’t get a seventh.

Harry stepped softly to the embankment. Suddenly, the wind died; the frogs went to ground; the laughter and song fell silent. Harry crouched slowly and carefully, gazing at the churning waters, never still, never slowing. The charm that protected him from the spells of sirens and the like grew warm against his chest, under his shirt; it was old and spluttering and about to give out, but he had faith in it. He began to hum.

He hummed as many children’s rhymes as he could remember, but none of them worked. He was just about to give up on that tactic when he heard a wary voice begin singing something completely different.

_“Are there lilacs in the heart of town? Can you hear a lark in any other part of town?”_

Surprised, he sang back, very low. “Does enchantment pour out of every door? No, it’s just on the street where you live.”

_“And oh, the towering feeling,”_ the wary voice caroled, growing stronger, lighter, practically joyful, _“Just to know somewhere you are near; the overpowering feeling, that any second you may appear…”_

Why was Harry smiling? He shouldn’t be smiling. The charm beneath his shirt became very hot indeed, and he had such an urge to take it off and throw it in the river… no, he was stronger than that. But he continued the song. “People stop and stare, they don’t bother me; for there’s nowhere else I’d rather be. Let the time go by, I won’t care…”

_“If I can be here on the street where you live,”_ the disembodied voice answered.

Harry took a deep breath; it shuddered a little on the way in. “Well,” he said, a little breathlessly. “How about—“

_“No, the song isn’t done!”_

He blinked, as a head popped out of the river and stared at him, plainly offended. It was male, which was different, and when it saw Harry’s blank stare it scowled, and rose a little higher, so the creature was visible from shoulders up. _“There’s one more verse!”_ it—he—scolded irritably. _“It doesn’t matter if it’s repeated, you still have to sing it!”_

“I’m not a very good singer,” Harry replied, keeping his tone even with an effort.

_“You’ve got a great voice,”_ the creature contradicted angrily.

“Ah—thank you?”

_“You’re welcome,”_ the creature grumbled, sinking back down to his nose.

There was an awkward silence. Then the creature said, _“I don’t need another man. I want another sibling.”_

“You can’t have any more,” Harry answered, finally feeling a little more in control. He drew his knife, the one made of Cold Iron inlaid with Blessed Lead. It killed most supernatural creatures. “Give back the children.”

_“Ain’t no need to bring knives into this,”_ the creature objected, rising a little again, uneasily eyeing the iron in Harry’s fist. _“We can talk this out.”_

“There’s nothing to talk about. You’re a murderer.”

_“They deserved to die.”_

“Maybe. Maybe not.”

_“No, there is no ‘maybe’!”_ The creature surged up, his face twisted with fury, water streaming—and then suddenly he stopped, and smiled charmingly. _“Come on,”_ he coaxed, _“Put the knife away. I know you don’t really want to kill me; how will the children go home if I don’t show you where they are?”_

Harry eyed the creature warily. This was most probably a trap, but that voice was so sweet and reasonable… no, that was part of the trap. His charm on its chain felt like it was physically burning him. “How do I know you’re not lying?”

The creature smiled wider, tilted his head, held out his hands. They trembled ever so slightly. _“Why should I lie? Come with me. Come on. I’ll take you to them.”_

“And I will take them home.”

_“And no one has to drown or get knifed or anything like that.”_

That sounded reasonable. He didn’t really want to kill this creature. How could anything with such a lovely singing voice be evil?

Harry stood, sheathed his knife, and stepped into the river.

The charm burning his skin spluttered, jerked on its chain, and then cracked straight down the middle. He looked down at his chest, surprised. How—

Fingertips on his jaw lifted his head slightly, so instead he was staring at the river-creature, who smiled so beautifully. How could he ever think of harming such beauty? He felt suddenly ashamed of his cruel, malicious thoughts only seconds before.

_“You’re a good man, Harry,”_ the river-creature told him gently. _“I’d really rather not hurt you.”_

“How did you know my name?” Harry asked, vaguely surprised. Most of his attention was fixed on the swirls of grey blue green in the river-spirit’s eyes. His hands found and settled on the spirit’s waist, which actually felt quite solid, and, while it felt cold at first, it quickly warmed. Very strange emotions started to move through him, most of them centered in his pelvic area.

_“I didn’t. I guessed.”_ The spirit stepped backwards and sideways, out of his hold; automatically he stepped with him, deeper into the river. The spirit smiled sadly and sweetly, and took another step. Harry followed, eyes fixed on the spirit’s.

Slowly, they moved towards the middle of the river, step by step; Harry didn’t even notice when the waters rose to his waist, to his chest, to his chin; and then, as the water closed over his head, the spirit pinched his nose and kissed him, breathing sweet, fresh air into his mouth, air that tasted like willow and moss and cattails. He didn’t care about breathing. All he cared about was the fact that this was the first kiss he’d actually enjoyed in… in…

They walked along the river bed, the waters rushing all around, swirling and tugging, almost sweeping Harry off his feet; but always, the spirit caught him right before, and helped him regain his footing. He didn’t know how long they walked, before the spirit suddenly dragged him sideways, upwards, and through a tunnel only just big enough for the two of them.

Suddenly, Harry’s head broke the surface, and he looked around, surprised. They were in a cave, tiny and walled with dirt and tree roots; perhaps made by some kind of animal, and enlarged by human-shaped hands. Harry climbed carefully out of the water-filled entrance and sat down, leaning against the wall, gazing at the spirit. The other smiled, and also levered himself up and out. He was completely naked, as many nature spirits are; Harry automatically looked away, his face feeling distinctly warm. He’d seen plenty of naked bodies before, but this—this was different. He wasn’t sure why or how, but it was.

A hand on his knee, cool, heavy, maybe a little flirtatious. _“Oops. Sorry. I forgot, I moved them. We shouldn’t go any farther tonight, though; you look done in.”_

“I am perfectly alright,” Harry managed, with great dignity, which was somewhat spoiled by the fact that he was still staring at the wall to avoid looking at the naked young man sitting beside him. Now he recognized these new emotions, and they made him nervous.

The hand on his knee slid slowly up his thigh, as the spirit nuzzled his neck. _“Mm. I don’t believe you. Wanna prove it?”_

Harry was beginning to feel a little dizzy and short of breath. It had been quite a while since anyone had… offered… so boldly. And… he wanted to accept that offer. He wanted to accept very, very badly.

Well, if he were careful… what could go wrong?

~~~\0/~~~

He was not sure how long he stayed there, in the water-spirit’s cave, reduced to sleeping and fucking; but he knew it was several days, and that he really did not care. There was a small hole, perhaps a long-disused entrance or exit, in the ceiling of the cave, that let in a little light and air circulation; and if it got too stuffy the spirit was more than willing to kiss him and give him those breaths of sweet willow-tasting air. Sometimes the spirit brought him food, in a metal lunch pail that somehow managed to keep everything dry and edible.

“What’s your name?” Harry asked, holding the spirit in his arms after a particularly wonderful session of lovemaking.

The spirit was silent for a moment. Then he said, with great conviction, _“Eggsy.”_

Harry frowned. “That’s a rather odd name,” he commented thoughtfully.

_“Is not,”_ the spirit grumbled, and kissed him to prevent further speech. Harry was alright with that.

Eggsy released the children soon after Harry’s agreement to keep him company, and he stopped luring people to their deaths. Instead he just lured people to the river and dunked them thoroughly, humiliating rather than killing. It wasn’t good enough, but back in his cave, he had the best incentive.

One day, Eggsy was catching fish just because he could and singing softly to himself, when he felt a strange tingle in his river. He dove immediately under the water, and swam to the disturbance.

Harry woke without Eggsy beside him and felt the usual disorientation. Without Eggsy, he lost his being-fine-with-this feeling, and if the spirit did not return soon he would begin to be angry, with Eggsy, with himself, with the way he’d given in to a minor river-spirit’s magic so easily.

He didn’t like that anger. So he crawled over to the river entrance and peered down into the water. It was dark and murky and he couldn’t see down very far; but surely it couldn’t be that long a tunnel. He was just about to dive in and go looking for his Eggsy when the roof caved in.

~~~\0/~~~

Merlin looked spiffy as always, if a little muddy. He crossed his arms over his chest as he stared at Harry, who happened to be tied to a chair.

“You were supposed to kill it, not fall into its spell,” Merlin pointed out dryly.

Harry glared at him. “I didn’t fall under anyone’s spell,” he denied with dignity, drawing himself up as tall as he could while tied up. “I simply made a deal, my life for theirs.”

“I see. That’s why you’ve spent two weeks in an easily escapable hole in the ground with all of your weaponry and plenty of opportunity?”

“Has it been two weeks?” Harry asked, surprised (and also trying to change the subject).

The corner of Merlin’s mouth twitched. “Yes.”

“Huh.” It had seemed both shorter and longer than two weeks. Maybe because he hadn’t bothered keeping track of his own behavioral patterns, let alone the movement of the stars and sun.

“Come on,” Merlin sighed, stepping forward and loosening the rope holding Harry down. “If you won’t do it, I will. Here.” He hung another, newer charm around Harry’s neck, and the spell simply fell away.

~~~\0/~~~

Eggsy had been swimming the same stretch of river for a full day, muttering and moaning in distress. He had not meant to fall in love with a human, but it had happened anyway, and now his human had been taken away by others who wanted to kill Eggsy.

Not even the fear of death was stronger than his fear that he’d be left all alone again, without even any siblings, and no one to love.

He heard singing.

Swiftly, he swam to the surface, not quite visible to human eyes, and peered up at the bank.

“Why are you singing?”

“Hush. I only know when he began to dance with me, I could’ve danced, danced, danced—“

Eggsy whooped, lunged up and forward, grabbed Harry’s leg, and dragged him into the river.

Harry had expected this. He had not expected to be let bob to the surface, gasping at the cold, and then have his face plastered with kisses.

_“Harry, you’re okay, you’re okay, you’re—“_ Eggsy stopped kissing and caroling and stared at the man on the bank. Harry turned just enough to also look up. The man on the bank didn’t even blink, slowly turning the blade in his hand. It was very similar to the one Harry had menaced Eggsy with.

_“Who’re you?”_ Eggsy demanded harshly.

“It doesn’t matter who I am,” the man replied with a bit of a Scots burr. “Harry, will you do it, or shall I?”

Eggsy looked at Harry, eyes widening as he realized that the spell had broken. Harry didn’t love him anymore. There was a new charm around his neck, and it burned. Slowly, Eggsy backed away from his human.

Harry, meanwhile, was struggling mightily. On the one hand, Eggsy was a murderer. On the other, all his killings had been justified. He was a monster, a thief, the best, kindest, gentlest creature Harry’d ever known. No, there must still be a bit of magic on him, that he looked into those blue-grey-green eyes and felt the deepest reluctance to kill this lovely person.

“I can’t,” he said quietly.

“Then I will,” Merlin said, and stepped forward, knife flashing in the moonlight.


End file.
